


The Witcher One-Shots

by asraime



Series: The Witcher One-Shots [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Injury, Language, Multi, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asraime/pseuds/asraime
Summary: This is a collection of The Witcher one-shots.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Male Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Other(s)
Series: The Witcher One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601455
Kudos: 25





	1. Geralt of Rivia | Worse

**Author's Note:**

> Geralt might be OOC in this. I do apologize if he is. I’m still in the process of watching The Witcher so I’m still getting a grasp of his character. I also do apologize for the ending. I wrote all of this in one sitting the night before going back to college while being sleep deprived. Hopefully, this is still enjoyable though!

The sudden sensation of a large animal smelling her skin made Isabella jump, sitting up from where she once laid on the ground. Rapidly looking around, she quickly laid eyes on the familiar chestnut horse. A sigh of relief left her lips, chuckling to herself as she shook her head.

“Took you long enough, Witcher,” She said, bringing her knees to her chest.

Isabella winced at the sudden strain that was felt as she moved her right leg. The brief contortion of her facial features didn’t go unnoticed by the white-haired male.

“You know each other?” An unfamiliar voice asked, making Isabella look in their direction.

Her eyes landed on a young man who stood next to the horse. He had short brown hair and grey eyes. The clothes he wore were much more intricate and vibrant in comparison to most.

“Who are you?” Isabella asked, eyeing the man before looking over at the horse. Geralt was mounted on the horse, studying the brunette.

“My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz,” Jaskier introduced, holding out his hand. “But call me Jaskier.”

“Is he a friend of yours, Geralt?” Isabella asked, ignoring Jaskier’s outstretched hand as she moved to stand.

“He’s not my friend,” Geralt grunted, dismounting from Roach.

Putting weight onto her right leg, Isabella stood for a few seconds before her leg collapsed. Geralt moved quickly to her side, catching her before she fell to the ground.

“What happened?” Geralt asked, gently lowering her to the ground once more.

The two men moved in front of her, Jaskier keeping his distance as Geralt began examining her leg.

“Nothing-”

“Bullshit.” Geralt growled, briefly glaring at Isabella. “Cut the crap and tell me what happened.”

Silently, Isabella reached into her pocket and dug out a bag of coins. She pulled the bag out and tossed the bag to Geralt. He groaned as he realized what she had done.

“I told you to wait.”

Normally, Isabella and Geralt would travel together and take one the occasional monster for cash. A few days ago though, Geralt had to run off to who knows where; leaving Isabella off to her own devices. Before going, he had told her to not take any jobs. Being the person she was, Isabella didn’t listen.

“I don’t have to listen to you, Geralt.” Isabella snapped, anger building up inside her. “I’ve killed beasts before without you.”

“You could’ve gotten killed,” Geralt snapped back.

“Guys-” Jaskier interrupted, the two instantly looking in his direction. “Shouldn’t this fight wait until later?”

He motioned towards the noticeable amount of blood sipping from Isabella’s pants. Geralt said nothing, sitting for a moment before moving into a kneeling position. He wrapped his arms around Isabella’s waist and underneath her knees before he stood.

“Geralt,” Isabella warned, gripping tightly onto his shirt as he moved towards Roach. Geralt remained silent as he placed her down on the back of Roach. “What the hell are you doing?”

Climbing onto Roach behind her, Geralt wrapped his arms around her waist and took hold of the reins. Squeezing his legs against the sides of Roach, she began to move forward.

Upon reaching the nearest town, Jaskier went his own way for the time as the Witcher and the female clearly had something going on. The two remained silent, much like the rest of their travel, after the bard left. The only sounds coming from the citizens of the town and Roach’s footsteps.

Geralt got a room for the night at an inn before he picked up Isabella once more and carried her a bed. The silence continued as Geralt slid her pants off, ignoring the looks of confusion he received.

“Take me on a date first if you want to get into my pants.”

“This isn’t my first time seeing you without pants,” Geralt stated, getting to work on dealing with the giant gash on her thigh.

Isabella’s cheeks turned crimson, vague memories of late nights with the white wolf returned. Late drunken nights that she thought the Witcher had long forgotten. 

“It’s not that bad,” Isabella said awhile, making Geralt look up at her briefly.

If looks could kill, she would’ve been dead.

“I’ve had worse, Geralt. You know this.” Silence. “Geralt…”

“You couldn’t have just stayed put?” He eventually said, nearly finished with taking care of her leg.

“I can take care of myself.” She stated. “I’ve gone on other monster hunts alone, why was this one any different?”

The hand that held onto her leg tightened, Geralt no longer working on the gash she had acquired.

“Geralt-”

Everything happened so quickly. The next she knew his lips were on hers, one of his hands on the back of her neck. Without thinking, lips moved along with his as if this was a normal thing. The two had kissed plenty of times before, but everything felt different this time. Everything that was missing all of there kisses was there. There was passion, care, and love. 

Confused by everything, Isabella regretfully pulled away. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked Geralt in the eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone before.” He murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Things began to make sense. Over the last few months, Geralt had become more protective of her. Not wanting her to take on certain monsters or wanting to be in further away than she would normally be. The witcher had developed feelings for her, without her realizing.

“And I, you,” she said quietly, a smile forming.


	2. Geralt of Rivia | Forest Interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Isabella are in the middle of something whenever a certain someone interrupts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in about 30ish minutes, (I’m slow, I know xD) trying to distract myself from the beginning of the semester anxiety. lol I have a proper one-shot coming sometime soon for Geralt

_Snap._

“Geralt-” Isabella mumbled as the witcher pressed his lips against hers, one of his hands placed on the back of her neck. “I heard something.”

Grunting, Geralt’s lips made their way down to Isabella’s neck as his hands wandered her body. Leaning her head back against the tree she was pushed up against, Isabella’s eyes closed as she tried to ignore the noise she heard.

Beginning to relax, one of her hands found their way into Geralt’s hair. A small moan escaped Geralt’s lips as she slightly pulled on his hair. Chuckling, Isabella pulled away enough to see his face. Cupping his face with her hands, she brought his lips to hers.

A branch breaking in the distances tore Isabella’s attention once more. Pushing the white wolf away, she unsheathed her sword. Geralt followed her, looking in the direction of where the noise was heard. Another branch broke, this time it was much closer towards the witchers. Moving in the direction of the noise, the two were surprised by the appearance of Jaskier. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Isabella growled, sheathing her sword.

“Hello to you too,” Jaskier replied sarcastically, sitting his stuff down next to where Roach was tied up.

“Why the hell are you out here?” Isabella asked, motioning to the tall trees that surrounded the three.

The bard began to speak but trailed off upon glancing in Isabella’s direction. Her chest was mostly exposed, not leaving much to the imagination. The hem of her shirt laid all over, some of it riding up her torso while the rest remained where it would normally. 

“Well?”

Jaskier said nothing, quickly looking away as he motioned towards his shirt. Isabella watched on, her eyebrows furrowing at the weird display. It wasn’t until Geralt began fixing her shirt and hearing Jaskier mutter something about her clothes that she finally got the idea.

“Fuck.” She muttered, doing her best to quickly fix the top of her shirt.

Geralt smirked as Isabella let out a string of curses about the white wolf. 

“Someone was busy,” Jaskier mumbled before letting out a yelp when a fist met his stomach.


	3. Geralt of Rivia | Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a sad attempt at writing jealous Geralt. xD This is so bad, but I spent too long trying to get through this that I didn’t have the heart to scrap it. Geralt’s very OOC at the end, where I was struggling the most, so I do apologize for that.

The sea of people ate, drank, and danced cheerfully, waiting for their Queen to make her first appearance of the night. Mingling amongst the other attendees of the banquet, Isabella and Jaskier at some point had got separated from the Witcher. Standing off to the side, his amber eyes glanced over the crowd of people, keeping an eye on the two banes of his existence. His eyes wandered from the brown-haired male to the fiery red-haired female.

Men practically flung themselves in the direction of the female, wishing to gain her attention for the night. She would smile politely at their advances, none of the men getting further than a small conversation. Occasionally her eyes would wander in the direction of the Witcher. When their eyes met, a smirk made its way to her face, slightly raising her glass of wine to him. 

Bringing the glass of wine to her lips, she turned her attention back to whoever was trying to gain her attention. This time it was a handsome prince, bragging away about the achievements he had made over his lifetime. Isabella had zoned out long ago, making generic responses as the prince went on and on. That was until he asked her a question.

“-Would you care to dance, my lady?” The prince asked, stretching his hand outwards for her to take.

Glancing over in the direction of the white-haired male, she noticed his grasp on his drink growing tighter. Bored of the whole banquet, she decided to have a little fun wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“I would love to,” Isabella replied, giving the prince the sweetest smile she could muster.

Sitting down her nearly empty glass of wine down on a nearby table, she placed her hand into the prince’s outstretched one. Guiding her onto the dancefloor, the prince moved one of his hands to rest on her waist while the other remained in his hand. Swaying to the music, the male began to speak once more.

Making small talk with the prince, her attention began to wander once more. Once again, her eyes wandered towards the Witcher. She found his eyes already focused on her and the prince. A small smile came to her lips as she thought of a way to really rustle the man’s feathers. Moving her hand from the prince’s, she wrapped her arms around the man’s neck. She moved in closer to the man, leaving very little room in between the two.

“It’s surprising that a lady like yourself doesn’t have a man by her side,” He said, his eyes wandering to her slightly exposed chest that was now practically pressed against him.

“Most men can’t keep up with me,” Isabella replied, temporarily moving her hand to make the man look at her.

The prince went to speak once more but interrupted by a hand being placed on his shoulder. Pulling away from Isabella, the prince turned and was met with amber eyes. The witcher gave the man a forced smile, apologizing for the interruption.

“My apologies, but may I cut in?” Geralt asked, taking Isabella’s hands into his.

Ignoring whatever the prince may have said in response, Geralt took her a few feet away. Placing his hands on her waist, he pulled her close to him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He growled quietly into her ear, his fingers tightening around her waist.

“Dancing,” Isabella replied innocently. 

Placing her hands onto his shoulders as they began to sway along to the music. Biting her lip, she surprised her giggles as she studied the witcher’s face. 

“Do you not trust me, Witcher?”

“You’re not the one I don’t trust,” Geralt replied, annoyance clear in his voice.

Pulling her as close as he could to him. His eyes didn’t meet hers as continued to study his expression. His gaze remained on the prince who watched on. The prince’s eyes laid on Isabella for a moment before he looked over at Geralt. 

“Ger-”

Without warning, Geralt smashed his lips against hers. Her eyes widened at the unexpected action. It took a moment, but Isabella began to move her lips along with his. A small moan of disappointment escaped Isabella’s lips as he pulled away from her.

“Geralt-” Interrupted once more, this time by the Witcher’s hand wrapping around her wrist and pulling her away from the dancefloor. “What the hell?”

The witcher pulled her into an empty corridor and pushed her against a wall, his hands going on either side of her. He said nothing before his lips were on hers once more. Instantly responding, Isabella’s hands made their way into his hair. Geralt moaned as she pulled on his long white strands. Pulling away after a moment, Isabella spoke.

“You’re jealous,” She breathed, finally putting the pieces together.

The witcher only grunted in response. He placed a more gentle peck on her lips before resting his forehead on hers. Chuckling, Isabella smiled.

“I should make you jealous more often,” She teased.


	4. Geralt of Rivia | Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last Witcher fanfic I'll write until otherwise specified. I'm sorry.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of death

“Now, Geralt, I can’t be such a pain in the ass that you must have such a distasteful face,” Y/N teased as she prodded away at the Witcher’s face.

“Hmm,” he grunted. 

He swatted away her hand while his amber orbs searched the hall for the infuriating Bard that insisted for him to be at the banquet earlier that day. Much to his dismay, the lute carrying and over the top Bard was nowhere in sight. A quiet grunt left the lips of the Witcher, his face contorted into a deeper frown than before. Without a second thought, Y/N reached out and grasped his shoulder, and she pulled his much larger body back towards her own. 

“Relax,” she mumbled. 

From the entrance of the banquet walked in the bane of Geralt’s existence. With his lute over his shoulder, like always, Jaskier searched the hall until he found their familiar faces. 

“Right, so stick close to me,” Jaskier instructed once he joined the duo. “-and pretend you’re mute. Can’t have anyone finding out who you are.”

Jaskier’s plans to pass off Geralt as his own personal bodyguard didn’t last long. Only seconds had passed before a male voice called out from across the hall.

“Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher!” Mousesack exclaimed, his loud and deep voice catching the attention of nearby attendees. 

“Oh shit,” Jaskier muttered.

“You’re famous, Witcher.” Y/N whispered as she leaned into Geralt’s side briefly. “Good luck.”

Before she could leave his side, his strong grip wrapped around her wrist, his grip forced her to remain where she stood. 

“You said-”

“You’re a big boy,” she teased. “Besides, I need a drink.”

Before Geralt could get another word in, she escaped from his grasp, quickly putting distance between her and the duo. As she passed by Mousesack, she sent him a small smile. 

“Nice to see you again, Mousesack.”

“You too, my lady,” Mousesack replied, bowing while she passed him by, returning his attention back to the duo afterward. “I haven’t seen you since the plaque.”

Y/N made her way toward the buffet, small exchanges were made amongst old family acquaintances, much to her displeasure. Much like anyone else at the banquet, she didn’t want to have to suffer the night sober. Which was why when she finally made it to the buffet where men and women were handing out drinks, she was the most ecstatic.

She took a glass off one of the many drink trays, throwing back the shot, and let the familiar burning sensation at the back of her throat take over. Y/N reached out for another glass when she felt a light tap against her shoulder.

“Excuse me,” one waiter working the banquet interrupted. “Are you Miss Y/L/N?”

“I am,” she replied, her brows furrowed.

The waiter leaned in and quietly whispered to her. Her gaze fell to Geralt as the waiter spoke, his amber orbs met her own, even as Mousesack spoke to him from across the room. Geralt watched as her face dropped, her eyes widening as the waiter continued to speak. Tears glistened in her eyes threatened to spill over at any moment. Her eyes fell closed as she nodded, with a wave of the hand the waiter was off. Her gaze failed to once more meet Geralt’s when she reopened them. 

“I’ve been advising the Skelligen crown for years,” Mousesack continued. “A tad rough around the edges, but they’re of the earth. Like- Geralt!”

Geralt ignored the calls of Mousesack. He weaved his way through the ever-growing crowd, his eyes never lost sight of her. The creases between his brows grew as he approached her. Her eyes refused to meet his own even as a singular tear fell down her cheek and her body shook. He gently placed his fingers underneath her chin. Without a word, he waited until her eyes met his, his eyes softened when they did.

“Y/N?”

“My sister, she’s…”

The words seemed to get caught in her throat and refused to come out. The reality of the situation hit her all at once. Her body trembled as her mind replayed the words the waiter said over and over in her head. The sounds of those around her faded out, only the sounds of the voice in her head being the only one left she could hear. Her thoughts consumed her and continued to consume her until a male voice broke through and pulled her from her mind.

“Y/N,” Geralt murmured.

“She’s dead.” She finished. She tore away her gaze from the Witcher as she took in a shaky breath. “Excuse me.”

She took the ends of her floor-length dress into her hands and left without another word to Geralt or Jaskier. Geralt remained where he stood and watched her as she left him behind. A part of him urged him to follow her, but he resisted. Nothing good would come out following her out, or at least that is what he thought. In the hours that passed, Geralt came to regret his decision to remain at the banquet.

The Queen had arrived shortly after Y/N’s departure, beginning the night of utter chaos. One thing led to another, and the next thing Geralt knew, he had declared the Law of Surprise after being urged by the man whom he saved for some form of repayment to Geralt. Only a moment later, the result of his Law of Surprise was revealed and it was to be a child.

Geralt left the banquet soon after, his desire to live was much greater than his desire to find out what the Queen would do if he remained a moment longer in her presence. When he left, he gathered Roach and set off in a random direction, no destination in mind. He wondered the roads of the dark roads of Cintra until he saw a familiar figure sat along the riverbank in the distance. For the first time since he had left the banquet, Geralt took in his surroundings and shook his head. 

“Of course, she would be here,” he thought.

He quietly approached her, Roach at tow behind him. The sound of a soft cry grew louder as he neared her. Y/N sniffled, aware of her visitor, she wiped away the streaks of tears that stained her cheeks before she turned. She wore a smile when she faced Geralt, though the smile dropped almost immediately once she saw Geralt’s state. 

“Rough night?” Y/N asked. Her question was met with a single glance. “I understand.”

She patted the empty patch of grass next to her and sent him a small smile. Without a word, Geralt did as asked and settled into the spot next to her.

The night was silent, the sounds of crickets and running water were the only sounds heard for miles. Tall trees surrounded the two. The night sky was littered with stars that shined through the cracks of the tree branches and leaves. The occasional rustle of leaves came from above, animals in the trees above them running on the branches above. Water from the river splashed onto land occasionally. It’s cold droplets landing on the now bare feet of Y/N.

The two remained there in silence for a while. Over time, Y/N’s body grew closer and closer to the Witcher. A grunt leaving the Witcher when she rested her head on his shoulder. Choosing to ignore him, Y/N closed her eyes, taking in the quiet sounds around them.

“Y/N?” Geralt murmured after some time had gone by. Lightly her body shook against his, her breathing uneven as she buried her face into his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” she whimpered.

Geralt grunted. Briefly, he shifted away from her, though he didn’t remain away from her for long. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. She buried her face into his chest; the tears fell more freely. Geralt said nothing, only pulling her into him further, resting his chin on the top of her head.


End file.
